You could have been hurt, or worse. But I wasn’t, Sophia said with the simple logic of a child. I found you instead, and you found me.
Grandma always said there are no accidents, only miracles waiting to happen. As if to prove her point, Alexander felt another flutter of sensation in his legs. This time, he was certain he saw his left foot move slightly.
Not much, just a tiny shift that could have been his imagination, but felt as real as the tears still streaming down his face. I don’t understand any of this, he admitted. You don’t have to understand miracles, Sophia said, reaching for a dinner roll.
You just have to believe in them. She took a small bite and closed her eyes in pure bliss. This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.
Alexander watched her eat with the desperation of someone who truly understood hunger, and felt ashamed of all the meals he’d wasted, all the blessings he’d taken for granted. This child had nothing, yet she’d given him something priceless, the first glimmer of hope he’d felt in twenty years. But as he watched her eat, a terrible thought occurred to him.
What if this was just his imagination? What if his desperate mind had finally snapped, and he was hallucinating the sensations in his legs? What if tomorrow, when the spell was broken, he’d wake up to find himself just as broken and alone as before? Sophia, he said carefully, what happens if this doesn’t work? What if tomorrow I can’t feel anything again? She looked up at him with food crumbs on her chin and complete confidence in her eyes. Then we try again, and again, and again, until it does work. But what if? Mr. Kane, she interrupted, her tiny voice suddenly firm.
Do you want to walk again? More than anything in the world. Then stop asking, what if, and start asking, what next? From the mouths of babes, Alexander thought. This six-year-old child had just given him better advice than all his expensive therapists combined.
What next then, he asked. Sophia finished her dinner roll and looked at him seriously. Next you let me help you, and you help me help my mom.
We take care of each other like families do. We’re not family, Sophia. We just met.
Family isn’t just about blood, she said, repeating words that sounded too wise for her years. Family is about people who don’t give up on each other. Alexander felt his chest tighten again.
When was the last time someone hadn’t given up on him? Even he had given up on himself years ago. Okay, he said quietly. What do you need me to do? Sophia’s entire face lit up like Christmas morning.
First, you need to believe. Really believe. Not just with your head, but with your heart.
I’m not sure I remember how to do that. That’s okay, she said, reaching out to pat his hand with her tiny fingers. I’ll believe for both of us until you remember.
As her warm hand touched his, Alexander felt that impossible sensation in his legs grow stronger. This time, he was certain his right foot moved. Just a tiny twitch, but undeniable.
Did you see that? He whispered. I see everything, Sophia said mysteriously. The question is, do you? Before Alexander could ask what she meant, the grandfather clock chimed ten times.
Sophia’s eyes went wide with panic. I have to go, she said, jumping up from her chair. Mom gets off work at ten thirty.
If she finds out I snuck out again. Wait, Alexander called as she rushed toward the door. How will I find you? Where do you live? Sophia paused at the threshold, looking back at him with those incredible blue eyes.
You don’t need to find me, Mr. Kane. I’ll find you. Tomorrow night, same time.
But what if something happens? What if you get hurt, or lost, or… What if I don’t? she challenged, throwing his own words back at him. And with that, she disappeared into the snowy night, leaving Alexander alone in his mansion with the lingering scent of hope and the impossible sensation still tingling in his legs. He sat there in stunned silence for what felt like hours, staring at the place where she’d been, wondering if the most important encounter of his life had just been a dream.
But the empty plate on his dining table was real. The warmth still radiating from where she’d touched his hand was real. And the feeling in his legs, faint but undeniable, was real too.
Alexander rolled his wheelchair to his bedroom and transferred himself onto his bed, something he’d done thousands of times before. But tonight was different. Tonight, as he lay in the darkness, he could feel the sheets against his legs…
